


Sleeping With Bobby

by Eliyes



Category: X-Men (Comicverse)
Genre: F/M, Manipulation, Past Sexual Assault
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-26
Updated: 2013-09-26
Packaged: 2017-12-27 17:42:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,575
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/981784
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Eliyes/pseuds/Eliyes
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Mystique-eye-view on getting under Bobby's skin, with BONUS dealing with some issues that <i>really should have been dealt with in the comics</i>.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sleeping With Bobby

**Author's Note:**

> Involves discussion of canonical sexual assault. 
> 
> This story was originally posted on Livejournal April 29, 2010.

Mystique had long since made a habit of studying the individuals who collectively called themselves the X-Men. After all, you couldn't do a proper impersonation without knowing how the person acted. She knew, among other things, that Bobby Drake seemed to have a subconscious kink for strong, even dangerous, women who could use his emotional support. See 'Lorna Dane', just for starters. He was also one of the many fools who wore the X that had a history of getting involved with former enemies. (Another list that began with Lorna's name.)

Knowing all this, and knowing that Bobby's most recent fling with Lorna had come to an end when that stupid cow had lost her powers and took herself off who-knew-where -- someplace lethal, one hoped -- Mystique wasn't all that surprised when Bobby reached out to her. Actually, she was a little relieved. Having one of the original X-Men in her corner could go a long way towards letting her stay near Rogue.

Of course, Rogue was far from impressed, but Bobby seemed willing enough to put up with getting the cold shoulder from his friend over his relationship with Mystique. Pretty ironic, since it seemed to be the fact that it _was_ Rogue Mystique was there for that had won him over in the first place.

Having Bobby for a lover would ultimately be more convenient, and Mystique adjusted her plans accordingly.

Although... he didn't entirely trust her. They were having sex, but never actually _sleeping_ together. Considering that he was clearly a natural-born cuddler, his ability to make his getaway without so much as a post-coital nap was impressive, and frustrating. Even when she stepped up her game in an effort to plain _wear him out_ , he managed to stumble back to his own room, still grinning like an idiot from the afterglow. All that got her was an infuriating little knowing look from Emma Frost.

Upon reflection, there were benefits to that particular source of irritation. Probably most of the brighter X-Men thought that Mystique was using sex to keep Bobby close to her, happy with her, and on her side. Certainly Emma would not have forgotten the debates they'd had about using sex to manipulate men, back when they were both in the Brotherhood. The amazing thing was how few of the X-Men seemed to realise that _Emma_ was playing that same game with Scott Summers. Oh, she was taking the long view, to be sure, but Mystique had turned her coat too many times to buy Emma's performance. More than likely she was working a slow takeover from the inside, and that was an especial pain in the ass because, knowing Mystique as she thought she did, Emma would be keeping an eye on her to protect her own interests. Scott would be displeased if something were to happen to Bobby... and of course Emma didn't want a rival to her power base, so all considered, it was in Mystique's best interests if Emma thought she was a little desperate, working her ass off to secure a place here.

The fact that it was partially true rankled, though.

Finally, she hit upon a tactic that worked. She waited until they were all tired -- herself, Rogue, and Bobby -- and then endured a short confrontation with her daughter, which hurt. And she let that it hurt _show_ , since it was just the three of them. A carefully calculated act of trust. Rogue didn't buy it (which also hurt, but made Mystique a little proud of her). Then, after a little show of resistance, she "let" Bobby comfort her. He took her to his room, which was an occurrence rare enough that she was still vaguely surprised to rediscover how neat he kept it. They didn't have sex. Instead, they kissed, and caressed, and _cuddled_ until Mystique very convincingly faked falling asleep wrapped around Bobby. He didn't even _try_ to slip away this time -- he was tired, after all. It wasn't long before she felt him drift off. And since this exercise would be rendered pointless if _she_ left, and she _could_ use some rest, she let herself sleep.

Some time later, Mystique woke up when she felt Bobby's muscles tense. She came instantly alert -- and swiftly realised that there was no threat.

Well, no waking threat. Bobby was obviously in the grip of a nightmare. Mystique propped herself up on her elbow and watched him for a bit. He hardly moved, but seemed to clench every muscle he had. She saw his breath come faster, saw him break out in a sweat. He groaned, wordlessly, and tossed his head. There was a crackle of air suddenly turned to ice, and Mystique had an alarming recollection that for a while Bobby had been sleeping in a walk-in freezer to keep from damaging more furniture in his sleep -- but no, it was only his right hand, and the sheet where he clutched it.

When Bobby started choking and gasping, Mystique leaned over and shook him awake.

"Bobby. Wake up. Bobby!" She made her voice sharp, and lashed him with it. When that didn't work, she summoned up the voice she'd used as field commander in Freedom Force and _ordered_ him awake.

He sat up so suddenly you'd think he was hinged.

"Wha--" He clutched at her arms, his right hand melting back to flesh against her skin.

"You were having a nightmare," she soothed -- and then, because she'd be stupid to pass up the opportunity, she asked, "What was it?"

"I -- Oh, God." Bobby gulped in deep breaths and raised a shaking hand to his eyes. "I was fourteen. I was coming home from the movies with Judy, and Rocky Beasely grabbed her, only this time I couldn't stop him, my powers --" He sobbed, tears abruptly pouring down his cheeks, and Mystique wrapped an arm around his back. "My powers didn't work! I couldn't stop him! Last time I trapped him in ice before he could -- before he could -- but my powers wouldn't _work! I couldn't stop her!_ " Hysterical tears robbed his breath, and Mystique held him and rubbed his back -- and made a mental note of that pronoun switch.

"Shh, shh. C'mon, deep breaths, Bobby. When I woke you up, you were _choking_."

He nodded, sucked in some more air, and used it to say, "There was a lynch mob." It seemed like a non-sequitur at first, but she soon understood as he spat out more babbling about the dream: "They made a gibbet and a noose and meant to hang me, but this time Scott wasn't there and the Prof didn't stop them. I couldn't _breathe_. I -- thank you for waking me up." He shivered and rubbed his neck ... and then asked, with confusion born of increasing consciousness, "But why would they hang me when they didn't know I was a mutant? I couldn't -- I didn't save Judy, they couldn't have known!"

She could have murmured some soothing platitude, like "dreams don't have to make sense" or "sometimes the unpredictability is part of what makes them nightmares", but she decided not to. Getting him to deal with his issues was risky, but could be the key to having him really trust her. At the very least, trying to help might earn her brownie points even if he reacted badly.

So she sighed, and wrapped her arms around him again, and kissed his hair, and told him, "I think this is a case of your subconscious mind putting masks on the real bogeymen to make it easier to deal with them. Except it's not working."

"What? What makes you say that?"

"Because I'm no stranger to nightmares... and I've known more than a few rape victims."

Bobby pulled away and looked at her with probably half the confusion he _thought_ he felt, and more than a touch of fear. Yes, part of him knew.

"What do you mean?"

"If I understand you," Mystique began delicately, "there really was a girl named Judy?" At his nod, she continued, "And you saved her from sexual assault, which revealed your powers, so a lynch mob came after you?"

He nodded again, swallowing. "That's when I met Professor Xavier. He saved me."

"And you were only fourteen. So this was probably a formative experience for you."

"But I haven't had a nightmare about it in _years!_ "

"That's because your dream wasn't _really_ about that, Bobby," she said patiently. "It was about something very similar that happened recently." He started to shake his head, and Mystique threw delicacy out the window. She was going to need blunt force to smash through his denial.

" _You were raped_. Unlike Judy, nobody saved _you_ from _Josette_."

"No--"

" _Yes_ , Bobby. She _raped_ you. She used her powers to make you do what she wanted, and then she used them to keep you from defending yourself. Judy's attacker was male, right? But when you told me about your dream, _you_ said, 'my powers wouldn't work; I couldn't _stop her_.' _Her_ , Bobby. Not him. Her."

He covered his face with both hands, probably because he had started to cry again. She normally found that a turn-off in a man, but under the circumstances it was hardly surprising. What _was_ surprising was that not one of his oh-so-caring friends had so much as made him _face_ what had happened. Either they were in denial, too -- probably felt guilty -- or Bobby's whole turned-forever-to-ice thing had been a more effective distraction than she'd suspected. Since that had turned out to be completely psychosomatic (just like the _first time_ it happened; did these people never _learn?_ ), she would have to keep in mind how devious his subconscious could be. It might be important later.

Here and now, Mystique drew Bobby's hands away from his face and held onto them.

"You have to accept what happened to you, or you'll never get past it. The nightmares will keep coming."

"But I went _with_ her!"

"Don't delude yourself! You didn't consent to anything you and she did. Given the choice, would you _really_ just hop into bed with a married woman you'd never met before?"

"No, probably not," he said, not sounding entirely convinced.

"My point is, you didn't _get_ a choice. She's like the Purple Man, or any scumbag who drugs someone for sex. And then she disabled you while her husband choked you nearly to death, so don't defend her! She doesn't deserve it."

Now came the really hard part. Mystique took a deep breath and pressed on.

"There was nothing you could have done."

"But I --"

" _Nothing_. Bobby, listen to me. You're a man, and you have mutant powers, so this is hard to accept. You've faced Apocalypse and the Phalanx and badasses from across the universe, and lived to tell the tale. You spend your life saving people, but you couldn't save yourself _because there was no way to do it._ It wasn't a failure on _your_ part. It was in no way your fault."

After a long moment, Bobby whispered: "So it could happen again."

"It could, yes."

He huffed a humourless laugh.

"Boy, you don't pull any punches."

"Wouldn't do you any good if I did." She let him reclaim one of his hands to wipe his face.

"Okay. She raped me," he admitted finally. "And there was nothing I could have done to stop her, and something like that could happen to me again." Bobby met her eyes. "What do I do now?"

"Don't let it break you," Mystique said grimly, and then bit her tongue.

"You look like you regret saying that." Still holding her hand, he started to move off the bed. "Come on. I think we could both use a little distraction."

As Bobby led her through the hallways, Mystique reflected that, at the very least, what had happened to him hadn't made Bobby body-shy. He was completely unselfconscious about walking around in just a pair of boxers. Of course, years of running around in the public eye in costumes just as skimpy (and when not skimpy, at least skintight) would be a difficult habit to lose. She didn't say anything about it.

She also didn't point out that his sudden increase in sexual activity after being raped was potentially a sign that he was on some level acting to take control over his body, because she didn't want to reveal that she knew that he'd been pretty much celibate in the years since his break-up with Opal Tanaka, or even that she knew about Opal at all. She definitely didn't want him to decide that he was using her for sex, which he was. (Not that his friends would believe it.) Explaining that she was using him right back was not an option, and as useful as the arrangement was, she very definitely didn't want it to end because he felt guilty.

And of course, Bobby was bright enough to make the mental leap that if he was using Mystique, he'd also been using Lorna before her. She _most_ definitely did not want to discuss that silly bitch and her issues. Being stuck in X-Factor with her had been bad enough.

Apparently their destination was a kitchen -- not the huge one used for the school dining facilities, but a smaller one still within the teachers' residence wing. Bobby waved her to a chair and started raiding the fridge and cupboards.

"What are you making?"

"Ice cream sundaes." He flashed her a boyish grin. "When in need -- sugar!"

"Suddenly the reason I keep hearing Beast muttering about diets around you becomes clear." She let her gaze linger on his bare stomach. "Although I presume the diet is for _him_ , not you."

"That's mainly to do with his Twinkie addiction," Bobby said absently, spooning sweet strawberry jam over two bowls of vanilla ice cream. "Do you want hot fudge sauce?"

"I do," she purred, coming over to lean against the stove. "But no peanuts on mine, please." After a moment, she added, "You could do this professionally."

He smiled crookedly. "Ah, but where's the fun in that? I'd rather be a gifted amateur." He presented her with a bowl with a flourish, and they decamped to the table against the far wall. Mystique automatically took the chair that left her facing the doorway, and Bobby's smile went more crooked still. He was uncomfortably _knowing_ , just now, so she launched a distraction.

"They were really going to hang you for saving this Judy girl?"

"Well, more for being an 'unnatural monster'."

"But they wouldn't have known about your powers if you hadn't used them in her defense."

"Not just then, no. I probably would have revealed myself some other way."

She waved her spoon at him. "That was damned ungrateful. Couldn't have asked the _girl_."

Bobby shifted uncomfortably as he sculpted his fudge around a mound of ice cream, not meeting her eyes.

"Actually, if she hadn't run away screaming 'monster', her dad probably wouldn't have started gathering a lynch mob in the first place."

After a moment, Mystique casually asked, "What was Judy's last name again?"

Bobby looked up, face alight with barely suppressed amusement.

"Raven," he chided, "you are not going to _do something_ to the first girl I ever kissed!"

"Ooh, another good reason," she murmured. He just laughed, and later, when he invited her to come sleep in his room again, the warmth of it lingered in his eyes.


End file.
